


Thicker than Blood

by LillithAbendroth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I know they are brothers I just dont care, Light Bondage, Lube, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 03:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillithAbendroth/pseuds/LillithAbendroth
Summary: One night. Fleeting, and then it was gone. Leaving hurt, but staying may hurt more. Dean buried his sorrows in another, leaving Sam broken. When Dean returned to comfort his broken brother, he was gone. Now he must find him, and fix himself in the process.





	1. Pain

"We can't...be together."

"Why?!"

There it was. That look that Dean always gives me when he is backed into a corner. When he knows he is wrong and nothing he can do or say will change that fact. That look had never broken my spirit more than it did at that moment.

Standing outside an old, broken down hotel room in Nevada with the sunset in my face, trying as hard as I possibly could...to just not cry. He knew it. He knew it was turning into that situation and he knew he didn't want to say what he was about to say to me. Even though we both knew his words, he choked on them. Why? Because-things were just as they had always been between us. He didn't want to break my heart.

He had always been the strong one. Even as kids he was the strong, brave, tough guy...me, not so much. I had always looked up to him. Always. Nothing would change that...or so I thought. One moment can change everything. It was different now. Everything I had ever known had been tossed to the ground, to shatter upon the cold, dirty, rock-bottom of a single moment.

In my vain attempt to hide my emotions I had turned away; turned to stare into the burning ember that was all that remained of the sun. His voice shook me back down to earth.

"Because...Sammy-"

"Don't!"

"Don't what?" He had anger in his voice now, and a wavering note that I couldn't quite place.

"Don't say it..."

"Why?"

"Because..."

He took a step towards me now, his car keys jingling in an ironic upbeat way in his fingers. "Why?! Because it's the truth?"

I forced myself to turn towards him now. Face him. As hard as I tried I could no longer contain my tears or that pathetic cracking as my emotions began to wreak havoc on my vocal chords.

"Because it hurts..."

He dropped his eyes now. Looking around, looking away...looking everywhere, anywhere but at me. Like a panther in a cage, looking for any way to escape. Though in that moment I couldn't tell if it was guilt or what other horrid thing he could've felt.

"Well...sometimes the truth hurts, Sam."

I couldn't find the words anymore. I couldn't push myself to keep this up any longer. It had been so long, so painfully long since I felt safe...and loved. Now it was all about to be taken back, and I didn't want to hurt anymore. Finally, thoughts started tumbling out of my mouth before I could close it.

"Why does it matter, Dean?"

"Do you want me to say it?" That tone again. Anger.

"Go ahead!" A surprising tone in my own voice now, defiance.

"We're brothers!"

"Yep!"

A narrowing of his eyes, a slight twitch just below his jaw bone. His anger was rising. "That doesn't bother you? Sam, that-"

"It did. Not anymore."

Another shadow flitting across his features, a grimace. "That's sick!"

"Was it sick last night? Huh!?"

With a growl beneath his breath he turned away, making long strides towards his car. That damn car. I hated it for its ability to take him away from me. As his hand finally grasped the door handle, I was on him, one hand on his shoulder to spin him around. I wanted him facing me.

"If it's sick now, it was sick then, and if I remember correctly you started it!"

Another grimace and he swatted my hand away. This time the anger had melted and something far darker was gripping him now. Fear. But fear of what?

"I need to go...Sam...I-I can't…"

"Can't what?!" My own anger was a demon inside of me now and it was taking me over, possessing me.

"I can't do this!" He roared, spinning on his heels, his palms flat against my chest, forcing me away. His volcano had finally erupted, and somehow seeing this instantly brought me back to reality. Anger washing away like ocean waves.

Before I even knew what was happening he had slammed the key in the ignition, fired the engine and he was gone...and I was left with the knowledge that I didn't know when - or if- he would come back.

I stood and watched as he drove away, dust kicking up behind him as he recklessly peeled out of the dirt parking lot. After a moment he was gone, and the dust had settled. I was painfully alone.

Just me and my pain.


	2. Always

It had always been me. Always. Since I could remember it had always been my job to protect him. I was supposed to be older, stronger, more rational.

I fucked it up.

I had changed everything in one night, with one terrible decision. One amazingly perfectly horrible night.

I was 17 the first time I decided I wanted Sam in a way I shouldn't have. It was hard, in that moment, for me to admit to myself that my baby brother...was fucking beautiful. Once I did, and I allowed myself to think of him in the night, it was all I could think about.

Shaking uncontrollably, I reached down and turned the key, listening carefully as the engine died and fell silent.

My heart was still hammering against my ribs, my throat burning from the effort it took to hold back my tears. Everything had changed so fast. Everything was so hard now. Everything was different.

If the truth were to be told, last night had all been a carefully thought out plan. Every detail, no matter how small, had been decided weeks, even months ago.

This feeling, this need...I don't know where it's coming from but I know I should feel terrible. Fuck, I know it's wrong...but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels so right that it hurts and all I want is to do it again. I'd give so much to relive it, but I know what's right. I have to stop it now. I have to protect him through it all. No matter what.

No matter how badly it hurts me.

Because that's what I have to do. that's what I've always done.

Even now, in this darkness, I told him the truth. The truth is...that reality is agonizing. The truth fucking kills me.

The truth is when I'm with him, I feel more content than I ever have. I feel like everything is okay and nothing will ever be wrong again. I am only happy when I'm near him.

That's why I left. Why I had to leave. When I woke up with his arms wrapped around me I was so happy that all I wanted to do was wake up next to him every day for the rest of my life...and I can't.

Reality is different from my dreams. Truth be told I craved his touch, his love, his warmth. I loved him with every piece of me...but he couldn't know that. I had acted against my instinct, on an impulse, and given in to my selfish perverted urges. My need to touch him and taste him. I fucked it up for both of us.

He was my brother. Flesh and blood. We shared DNA. We shared a bond formed deep inside of us that neither or us could change. We shared so much. In my selfish desire to cross the line, I had ruined the brotherly bond...and it would never be fixed.

Fumbling with trembling hands I grabbed the door handle, ripping it up as I kicked the door open. The door flung open violently, rebounding off its hinges and threatening to slam back into my face. Cruel irony. Another kick, and this time it stayed open.

I practically jumped out of the car, clawing in the general direction of the door and flinging it shut with a loud slam of metal on metal. Everything hurt so bad inside. My chest was heaving, heavy, as if my lungs were filled with concrete. Guilt laid like a sick, sour puddle in the bottom of my gut. My heart was burning inside of my chest like a fresh, deep wound filled with salt

Salt, to burn the skeletons in my closet.

That was hilarious, as if I could be cleansed. Even fire couldn't save me now. My sin was unforgivable. For what I did, I would burn in Hell.

My shoes crunched across the asphalt as I walked. When the pounding inside of my head had gotten bad enough, and I couldn't even see anymore, I had to stop. So I did. I stopped that goddamn Impala dead center in the middle of the fucking road, and I slammed it in park. Now, as I struggled to take fresh air into my lungs, I thought.

I had hurt him so badly. I had lied, straight to his face, and used it like a dagger to stab him in the back. He would never understand. Never, and I don't expect him too. He told me he wanted to be with me forever. He wanted to wake up next to me every morning and fall asleep next to me every night. He said that even though he knew it would have to be a secret between us...he wanted us to be together. Really...together.

Even though it was my actions that caused our tragedy, I had to deny him, I would not make my brother suffer in a secret relationship, hiding his feelings and never being happy...because it was what I wanted. All I have ever wanted was to make him happy.

Though every syllable out of his mouth could have been pulled from a script inside of my own head...I shot him down. Told him he was insane and I had been drunk and I had made a mistake. A horrible, disgusting mistake. Even thinking about the lies I told him now make me hurt. Those words hit my heart like a thousand stabs and I hate myself.

I hate myself for hurting him.

I stopped, finally still. What was I running from? My guilt, or my brother? Or maybe responsibility? I couldn't even tell myself just then what I was afraid of. I still don't know, even now.

All I can picture now, over and over again is the last day at the hotel. Listening to you tell me how happy I made you, and that all you wanted was for me to be as happy as I made you, and then you asked me what I wanted. What did I need from you in order to be happy? Sam...if you only knew.

I knew at that moment that I had screwed it up. I had allowed my emotions to shine through to you. To force something too big...too much...onto your broad but fragile shoulders.

"Nothing Sammy. Just forget it."

That look you gave me was so sharp it cut to the Bone. I could feel myself bleeding, torn apart by what I had to do. For you. Always for you.

"But Dean...I want to make you happy"

"I said forget it, Sam...last night was a mistake"

"Dean...no, no that's not true. You told me you loved me"

That last line had been the worst. Surely you didn't know how hard this was for me.

"I do love you Sammy. Just not like that...I fucked up. I'm sorry. Please...forget it."

"I can't forget it now, Dean. Last night...that was-" your voice was cracking and breaking, destroying me that much more. "That was all I've wanted for...a very long time."

"I'm sorry...Sam...I fucked us up. I made a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake Dean! You made love to me...just like I've-"

"Stop! Sam stop! That's fucking wrong! It's sick, Sam!"

You had broken then. The damn that had been holding back your tears broke, you fell to your knees in front of me.

"No, Dean! It was RIGHT! Dean...listen to me-"

"Stop..."

"Dean, what do you want?! I will give you anything, whatever you want! What do you want?!"

The breaking point had come for me, and tears were flowing freely now. You knew. You had to know. After everything we have been through, it has never changed. Over the years it has evolved, morphing into a beautiful monstrous form, but it has never changed.

The truth is Sammy...I can't tell you. Why? Because it's my job to protect you. To save you from pain, sorrow, ridicule. We both know that's all I could cause you is pain. I can't do that to you, Sam. I can't.

I can't tell you what I want.

Because it's you. It's always been you. Always.


	3. Primal Lust

I stood in the failing light of the setting sun for as long as I could stand it. What would happen now? How would this end?

A chill raced up my spine as a sudden, frightening thought hit me. What if this was the end of everything? What if Dean was gone for good? Left with no intention to return? Sighing, I turned and finally made my way inside, while all of the scenes from the night before played across my mind like a movie.

Dean smiled, his expression loose and relaxed; the side effect of one too many drinks. Sam chuckled.

"I think maybe I should cut you off, Dean. You're starting to talk crazy"

"What you think I'm wrong?"

Sam tossed his head back in a laugh, his own beer lying forgotten at his feet. The hunt had ended early today, and after a few celebratory beers, Dean had turned the subject towards a friendlier place. Jo and Ellen.

Dean sat up, still grinning. "I'm tellin' you, Sammy. Jo has got it in for you"

Sam shook his head, his expression disbelieving yet playful. "Not in a million years. She isn't like that" as he spoke he fell back onto his bed, his head hitting the pillow with a disappointing flop. Damn flat hotel pillows...

He allowed his eyes to slide closed, but before he could be taken over by sleep, he felt the telltale sinking of the bed that told him Dean had come over.

"Is it her that isn't like that...or you?"

With a curious look, Sam popped one eye open with which he had intended to roll at his brother. He was caught off guard, however, at his brother leaning over him, their faces mere inches apart. He jumped, startled.

"Shit, Dean! Don't fuckin do that!"

Dean had his signature smirk playing across his lips, and a grumble of laughter in his throat. Suddenly Sam felt as if he had been backed into a corner. Confusion muddied his thoughts.

"Wait...Dean, what do you mean?"

"I don't stutter."

Sam narrowed his eyes, his confusion ran deeper than ever. Confused not only by what his brother was asking him, but also why he wanted to know.

"Am I like...what?"

"I've seen Jo, and...now that you mention it, countless girls...give you that look and not one of them has so much as turned your head. Now I'm askin you, Sammy..."

He stopped suddenly, a sinister smile flashing across his features. Sam felt suddenly as if he had been dunked in an ice bath. He didn't like the sound of where this was going.

"What, Dean?" Sam was surprised to hear his own voice crack and hesitate.

"Do you like girls, baby brother?"

Sam felt himself jerk as if he had been slapped across the face. His jaw went slack and his eyes grew wide. What was going on?

"Do...I- what? yea!"

Dean laughed now, a deep, hollow sound, almost mocking. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!"

"100%?"

"Sure am!"

"Straight as a ruler?"

Sam hesitated, his eyes narrowing. Something seemed a little off. Telling, even. What exactly was Dean getting at? He had never asked before, let alone so persistently. It almost made Sam wonder if the oldest Winchester had an ulterior motive.

"Are you?"

Dean's sinister smile grew into a cannibalistic grin. "Am I what?"

Sam felt a shock to his system, this had been Deans plan all along. "...Are you straight...?"

Deans grin faltered, morphing into a soft smile, but he averted his eyes, almost as if embarrassment was making him fearful. He looked around the room for a minute, his breathing steady but rushed. Something was up. Finally, he turned back to Sam.

"No."

Sam felt the shock knock the wind out of him as if he had fallen off a building. He had been right all along. Dean was asking, not to out Sam, but as some backwards way to out himself. Deans plan had worked, but why now? Why after all this time had he felt the need to talk about this?

"You're...not?"

"That surprises you?"

It was Sam's turn to laugh. "Yea! It's just...all those girls, when we were in high school."

"There were guys too."

Sam's eyes grew even wider, "really?"

Dean nodded. Sam watched his expression, studying his big brother for even the slightest sign that he was lying, playing a prank, anything. There was nothing. Dean was a statue.

"Yea right. You're wasted"

Deans expression stayed the same, and he shook his head. "Not as wasted as you may think"

"Bullshit!"

"Want me to prove it?"

Sam let out a bray of laughter and shook his head. "Okay Dean...go to bed, you're drunk"

"Only if you come with me"

"Dean!"

The unchanging look on his face told Sam that his brother may not be joking. Everything was getting way too serious really fast.

"Dean...what are you getting at?"

"All I'm saying..." Deans smile grew to its final form, wicked and daring. "...is...I won't tell anyone"

"Dean...I don't think..."

"Good. Don't think about it. That will just complicate things."

Sam felt all of the blood drain from his extremities and rush towards his cheeks, flushing his disbelieving face a deep glowing scarlet. It was turning into something he would never admit to anyone-not even himself- that he had dreamed about countless times since he had been 13.

Just as Sam opened his mouth to protest, Dean made a move towards him. Sam's hands flew up between them, and he pressed himself back, sliding up in the bed until his head smashed against the headboard. He let out a growl of pain and grimaced, his lips curling into a snarl. Dean chuckled, now on his hands and knees, looking up from between Sam's splayed legs.

"What are you afraid of, Sammy?"

"I'm not...afraid, Dean...but this is-"

"Weird? Gross? Wrong? Immoral?"

"All of the above!"

Expectantly, Dean thrust himself forward and smashed their mouths together in an intense, feverish kiss. Sam felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. He jumped, startled, with a sickeningly weak sounding yelp. He immediately cursed himself for showing any sign of weakness. Dean was like a wolf, especially when he had been drinking, and he could sense fear in his prey. Acting purely from his fear, Sam pushed his brother back and off of him.

Dean gave a playful laugh, his reaction eerily out of context. He slowly leaned towards Sam, never breaking eye contact as he moved. Sam felt his brothers lithe, rigid fingers grasp his wrists and pull them upward. Looking away, he gulped hard. Everything had changed so quickly, and he had no idea what to do or say. Without a word, Dean pushed him back, his shoulders pressed firmly against the headboard, pulling his arms up and over his head firmly. Sam felt the cold steel against his skin before he even realized what was happening. A mechanical click echoed around the room and his blood turned to ice.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

Sam sighed. He should have seen it coming. He glanced upwards to discover what he already knew. He didn't even know Dean had been carrying handcuffs.

"Dean...what are you doing?"

"What's the matter, Sammy?"

"Dean I-I" Sam felt his own voice break as he panicked. "I don't want to do this."

"Bullshit"

Dean threw one leg over Sam's, straddling him.

"Dean, I don't...want this."

Deans expression changed so quickly that Sam felt a jolt of fear. "You're a fuckin' liar"

"What? No! I'm not-"

"Then what the fuck is this?"

Without warning Dean lashed out with lightening speed, his fist wrapping around Sam's erect member through his rough blue jeans. Sam gasped, his jaw falling slack. He had been hoping that would go unnoticed. He felt himself throbbing now, achingly hard against Deans warm skin, even though the tough fabric stood between them still.

Dean leaned to him again, their chests pressed firmly together. The older Winchester laid his lips against Sam's ear and chuckled when Sam Inhaled with a growl.

"What's the matter baby boy?"

"God...Dean."

"Do you want me to make you cum?"

Sam suddenly felt an electric jolt to the genitals, and what felt like a flock of birds flapping around in his stomach. He looked to Dean again, and with a flushed expression he nodded. The mischievous smile returned to Deans face, and Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of worry at his brothers grin.

"No way, Sammy. I wanna hear you say it."

Sam turned his eyes away again. His heart thudded painfully against his heaving chest, his breathing labored and hitching in his lungs. His heartbeat was rumbling like thunder in his ears. Finally he took a deep breath, and stared into Deans evergreen eyes.

"I want you to make me feel good, Dean"

"Good boy..."

Still flashing a manic smile, Dean released his hold of Sam's throbbing manhood. He snaked his hands around the bulge in Sam's jeans, and tugged at the zipper with fumbling fingers. Sam could feel Dean trembling against him. Fear, anxiety, or excitement he couldn't be sure, but it somehow made him feel that much closer to Dean just the same. Still watching Deans eyes, he pressed himself forward, straining against his bound wrists to press his mouth against Deans quivering lips.

He felt Dean melt into him, and the feeling of their lips pressed together caused the already blurred lines inside of his head to fade completely. Reality didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was this moment and these feelings and what was about to happen between them. They broke apart, staring wildly into each others eyes, panting in puffs and groans.

"Uncuff me, Dean"

He shook his head, "Not a chance, bitch"

Sam groaned, his eyes narrowing. He was itching to get his hands on Dean. He was aching to touch the sculpted flesh beneath the too tight black t shirt, and to pull the belt off and fling it, forgotten, into a corner.

"Let me go. C'mon Dean"

"Look, that's not happening. So you can shut that pretty mouth, or I can fill it."Dean slowly shook his head, never breaking eye contact.

"Try it, jerk"

Moving quickly, Dean pulled his legs beneath himself and pushed up to standing, his belt buckle barely missing Sam's nose on the way up. Wasting no time, he yanked his zipper down and his fingers disappeared inside the confines of his jeans. Staring down at Sam, he wrapped his fingers around his stiff cock and carefully pulled it out.

Deans emerald gaze locked with Sam's hazel eyes. Gripping his cock at the base, Dean rolled his fingers down towards the tip, watching as Sam's eyes filled with an unreadable expression. Walking his fingers down towards the underside of his shaft, Dean leaned forward, pressing himself against the writhing man beneath him. He could feel Sam breathing heavily, as if struggling to keep himself sane. Finally, after he knew the anticipation had grown to a mountainous level, he released his member to fall against Sam's closed lips with the soft smack of skin on skin.

Bending just slightly at the knees, Dean positioned the head of his cock, pulsing and dripping with precum, against the young hunters pouting lips. Watching the expression in his young brothers glazed eyes, Dean pressed forward then. When the slick heat of the inside of Sam's waiting mouth engulfed him, he felt a ripple effect across his consciousness. It took all of his strength not to buckle at the knees, but he held strong (though he may have wobbled just slightly)

He pushed forward until he hit the limit, and then painstakingly slow, he pulled out. When the slick, rounded tip of his member fell from Sam's mouth, the shaft glimmering and shimmering with saliva, he realized the young hunters lips were turned up in a sinister grin. He matched it with his own wolfish smile.

"What, bitch?"

"You done already?"

Dean's smirk cut even deeper. "I just didn't wanna hurt you"

"Hurt me, Dean"

A throb, low, coiled in his belly, and Dean shook his head. "I don't think you know what you've gotten yourself into"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single syllable, Deans lithe fingers grasped him just beneath his jaw, his thumb pressing deep into Sam's throat. Choking on his unspoken threat, Sam felt his brother grab a fistful of his hair and force his head back. Dean stared into his blue eyes as he positioned himself, once again, against Sam's lips.

"You really shouldn't have said that, Sammy"

Without hesitation, he thrust forward, plowing ahead until he hit a barrier. He growled, low and deep in his throat. Beneath him, Sam twisted and fought to yank his head away, panicked. Every time he gagged, choking on his aching cock, Dean felt his adrenaline roar to greater heights. His grin returning, Dean forced himself deeper, pushing past his tongue until he could feel the hunters tonsils.

Sam summoned every inch of his willpower, fighting against himself until he gained control. Dean would not beat him. Dean would not win this.

He couldn't allow it. Because he knew if he did, Dean would beat him down and dominate him until he couldn't even remember his own name.

Straining against the handcuffs, Sam thrust himself forward, forcing Deans cock back, down his throat. When he had reached his limit, he fought against his body, pushing himself to hold his breath. Prove his worth. Prove Dean wrong.

He would show once and for all who was the alpha in this situation.

When his lips met Deans pubic bone, he held it there, fighting to relax his throat. He glanced up towards his fellow hunter, his eyes veiled in thick, dark lashes, watering against the force it took to restrain himself. He locked eyes with his lover, and slowly pulled away, allowing Deans manhood to retreat from his mouth.

"Holy shit, Sammy. You've got some skills."

The youngest Winchester nodded, swallowing hard, "yep"

"You sure you've never sucked dick before?"

His eyes, smouldering in their intensity, stayed locked with the emerald pools gazing down at him. Beads of sweat had begun to stand out on his forehead, his hair sticking to his clammy skin.

Sam spoke, carefully pronouncing every word to make sure he had the desired effect, " I haven't. I'm innocent. Are you?"

A telltale smirk. He had him right where he wanted him.

"Oh, I'm anything but innocent...but I've never done that" as he spoke, Dean dropped to his knees. Sam found himself grinning like a spoiled child. Low and behold, he knew he would win one way or the other.

"You're such a liar, Dean"

A chuckle, and Dean raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction, "oh you think so, huh?"

He jammed a knee between his brothers thighs, forcing them apart so he could kneel between them. He watched his captive as he reached forward, expertly removing Sam's belt in a single fluid motion.

It was Sam's turn to laugh, "You've got the mouth for it."

The smirk deepened, "oh, you think so?"

"Yea, I do. I always have"

The surprise stood out like war paint on Deans face. This seemed way too real, yet way to surreal all at once. "You've thought about it?"

"Yeah. I've dreamt about fucking your mouth since I was 13 years old"

Fighting to suppress a gasp of delight and disbelief, Dean bit hard into his lower lip. The room was spinning. His heartbeat was deafening. This could not be happening. Fighting, he kept his control.

"Never gonna happen, Sammy."

"Oh yea?"

Another bark of laughter, and Dean popped the button open on his jeans. Yanking Sam's zipper down, he raised himself onto his haunches, practically nose to nose with Sam. He hooked his fingers around Sam's waistband, and peeled his pants and boxers from his aching legs like a glove.

"No, Sam...I'm not the type...but you are...bitch"

Sam was suddenly confused, almost worried. The tone in Deans voice almost made it seem to be some cruel joke. What was happening?

Sudden realization slammed into him like a wrecking ball when Dean grasped his knees and pulled them up, over his shoulders.

His wrists pulled tight in their restraints, he allowed his eyes to fall closed as he felt himself being positioned, and finally, he felt something hard pushing towards his entrance. Yelping, he bucked away.

"Dean! Dean I don't know if I can do this! Dean, don't! it's gonna-"

A hand clapped to his mouth silenced him quickly, and his eyes were met with deep, smoldering, iridescent pools.

Slowly, Dean shook his head, "relax, Sam. I know what I'm doing. I've done this before. You're not my first virgin." His hand slowly fell away from Sam's mouth, but not before letting his fingers dance across his lips.

Sam let out a whimper, his eyebrows knitting in puzzlement, "I'm not a virgin, I-"

Again, abruptly, he was silenced by an odd, probing feeling, though this time smaller. Keeping his lips firmly together, he allowed his eyes to travel down, until the source of such a feeling became bluntly obvious.

Fingers. Dean was stretching him.

Opening him.

Preparing him.

A twinge of pain shot through his body, and he gasped. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, and from somewhere above him, Dean chuckled. He was loving this. Was this always what he wanted? Always, ever since they were young, Dean had needed to be number one.

"You okay Sammy?"

A different note had entered his voice this time, and Sam's eyes opened slowly. This had to be a dream. Suddenly Dean sounded so...caring. Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Yea...I'm okay"

They eyes locked, and Sam found himself unable to look away. All his life his brother had a hold on him. He had been his protector, his guardian. He had been there when he needed him, and even sometimes when Sam thought he didn't. He had always been right there. What was happening now? What had this turned into? Everything had changed in a flash and the thought of it-the realization- had Sam's mind running in circles. Thrashing and circling like a bucking bull, threatening to toss him and put him on his ass.

He almost couldn't handle his own thoughts at that moment.

Finally Dean pulled away, removed his fingers, and suddenly Sam felt empty and lost.

"Dean..."

Still holding his eyes, Dean tilted his head, asking without words what could possibly be on Sam's mind. Now, of all times, what was bothering him?

"You were right...I want this. I want it now."

The look of caring morphed into a look of excitement and lust, though Sam could see Deans heart fluttering just below the surface. The eldest Winchester leaned down then, forward, pressing his chest against Sam's and meshing their lips together in an embrace that they both needed.

Through the sweet taste of Deans mouth on his, Sam's felt something new. Though it seemed insignificant and far away, a new feeling blossomed beneath him.

At first it caused confusion and fear, and then it transformed, evolving like a lizard crawling from a primitive ocean. It changed at that moment, and he was no longer driven by his fear.

He became driven by love and need.

He didn't fight it, though he was afraid of the pain, he relaxed, slowed his breathing, focused on Dean and the taste of his mouth, and before he knew it, it was over.

Dean was inside of him.

Filling him.

Owning him.

Their hips met in the middle and to Sam...it felt like heaven. It felt as if it had always been destined to feel this way. He no longer felt like this love was wrong or taboo in any way. Now, laying on a disheveled bed in a dirty hotel room, he felt as if he was home. Laying with Dean, strewn out among tangled bed sheets. This is where he was always meant to be.

Finally, Dean straightened, surfacing for air and breaking their heated contact. Immediately, Sam missed the taste of him.

Without a word or even a warning, Dean began to move.

Every tendon and muscle in Sam's body exploded with feelings that he had never experienced before. He slammed his eyes shut and behind his darkened lids, visions of white light spurting and shooting across his consciousness. Symbolism? He couldn't be sure.

It wasn't long until Dean found a rhythm. A beat for their love to dance to, played out by the headboard slamming against the wall, and the bed springs creaking tellingly beneath the weight of their shifting forms. Together, they danced a dance of forbidden love and long hidden lust. A dance of sweating, writhing bodies, and heated, panting breaths.

It slowly turned into something harder, faster, feverish and rushed, and before he knew what was happening, Sam felt a new feeling overtaking him. That familiar feeling, a steel cable inside of him, red hot and quivering. A rubber band pulling tighter and tighter until finally...

The band snapped, and he gave in. Screaming Dean's name, he nearly bent in half as the force of his orgasm roared to life, and pulled itself from his core. His essence shot out of him and coated Deans chest and stomach.

Twitching and shaking, Sam looked up, reading the expression on Dean's face. Much to Sam's pleasant surprise, he was smiling.

The look on his face described exactly how Sam felt. Blissful.

Though he slowed, Dean didn't stop, pressing in and pulling out, his rhythm never staggering. Sensitive and pulsing from his climax, Sam's throbbing member smacked his abs painfully with each thrust.

"God, Dean...I-"

He was silenced then, Deans hand slapping across his swollen, bitten lips. Silencing him quickly. Muffled, he groaned against Dean's calloused finger as he felt him speed up again. Quickening his pace. More desperate now. Pushing and grinding until finally...

Dean released a sputtering gasp, his fingers slipping and falling from Sam's mouth to wrap around his shoulder, anchoring them together as he pushed one final time.

Sam could feel it now. The pulsing and throbbing of Dean's manhood as he spilled himself inside of Sam. Cementing their love in a physical manifestation of their sin.

It was final at that moment, and Sam sighed at the thought.

All this time. Since he could remember. His thoughts, his dreams, his fantasies. Something he thought he could never have. Something he thought was just the hormonal ramblings of a broken and misplaced teenage boy had finally been realized.

His forbidden fantasy had been thrust into reality in one big stumbling push that had turned his entire world inside out and upside down. He shuddered then, his emotions wracking his frame and spreading throughout his consciousness. Then finally, he lay still. He lay there, panting, lost in his thoughts and the moment, warm and safe and so damn happy laying on this bed beneath this person. Then suddenly, it was ripped from him.

With a squeak of protest from the bed frame, Dean moved away, falling away from Sam and leaving him feeling barren and so, so cold.

"Dean..?"

"Yeah?"

Tongue lashing out across his suddenly dry lips, Sam fumbled to find the words. Anything he could say. What could he say?

"Uncuff me"

The only thing that he could think at that moment. The only words that his jumbled brain could put together into a sentence. He watched as Dean buttoned his jeans. Zipped them. Adjusted them so that they hung almost too low on his sculpted waist...and the whole time he was watching him. Those emerald eyes staring unwavering in Sam's direction.

"Ya know, Sammy. I don't think I will"

Sam felt a slap of confusion, and his brow knitted together in puzzlement. As he watched, Dean yanked his shirt down over his head, and walked towards the other bed. The one left forgotten in the corner.

"C'mon Dean. These cuffs are starting to hurt and I need to take a shower."

With a mischievous grin, Dean shook his head and bent down to snatch his jacket. He averted his eyes. Looking from Sam to the bed. Searching. He found what he was looking for, and snatched up his keys from the floor beside his bed.

"Nah. You'll be alright." He tugged on his jacket, his smile still playful yet sinister, "I will be right back. You just sit tight." His voice barely masked a chuckle.

"DEAN! You cant leave me like this. What if someone comes in?

Dean shrugged as he headed towards the door, "You'll be fine. Its after midnight."

"DEAN! No! Listen, c'mon, let me go" Suddenly Sam was panic stricken. "Besides, Dean...you cant drive drunk-"

Finally, Dean let out a bark of laughter, and turned back towards his brother. In two quick strides he crossed the room, moving towards his bed once more. He swooped down, grabbing the comforter and ripping it back. There, laying beneath the worn, stained, greying sheets, were four unopened beer bottles.

Sam blinked in disbelief. There was no way...

"You were never drunk..."

Another laugh, and Dean made it to the door this time "Right. Now, I'm gonna go get a cheeseburger."

With that, he disappeared through the door and snapped it shut behind him. The click of the lock was final and deafening, and left Sam with his jumbled thoughts.


	4. Confusion

The door closed behind him with a snap that somehow made this situation all too real. Looking around the room, Sam released a wavering sigh.

The bed, the one that was supposed to be his, sat to his right, the sheets crumpled in a pile on the floor next to the bed. Slowly, he walked over, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alone.

He flopped down onto the bed, sighing. He looked around the room, taking in the sights, the smells...reliving memories of nights gone by.

Glancing towards Dean's empty bed, a glint of light near the floor caught his eye. A bottle laying under the edge of Dean's bed.

Lowering himself from the bed to the floor, he moved slowly, on his hands and knees across the room.

One quivering hand reached for the object in question and snatched it from its spot in the shadows. He turned it over in his hands, his curiosity getting the better of him. Reading the label, his stomach twisted into a knot.

Lube?

Dean was hiding lube under his bed?

Sam straightened, grasping tighter to the bottle in his hands.

Dean had planned this. Dean had been planning this for a long time. He had come prepared. This was all a plan. Some sick twisted idea to get into Sam's pants and then...what?

Push him away and leave?

Love 'em and leave 'em...wasn't that what Dean always said?

Tears formed in Sam's hazel eyes, steaming water that penetrated his lids and begged to fall. He shook his head, pushed himself up until he was standing. This had been it, the entire time this was what Dean had been planning. Get him drunk, fuck him into the floor, and then leave him stranded in a broken down hotel room?

Rage blossomed in Sam's gullet. With a snarl he cocked his fist above his head, and flung the bottle across the room with a guttural roar. It smacked a lamp sitting on a dresser near the bathroom door, and with a sizzle and pop, the light bulb exploded in a flash.

The damn had broken now, and nothing could keep him calm. Spinning on his heels, Sam grabbed a vase on a nearby end table and like a pitcher on a baseball mound, he threw it. Backed by all his rage and despair, it hit a wall and shattered, splattering the wall his droplets of dirty water, the flowers falling in the air like confetti.

Bending At the waist, he stuck his forearms beneath the bed-the bed he had shared with Dean- and pushed, heaving it up and over. Flipping it in midair and shoving it back until it rested against the far wall. Turning towards the exposed wall, he cocked his leg at the knee and then lashed forward, driving his boot through the cheap paneling.

Standing in the middle of a dusty, destroyed room in the middle of Nevada, Sam Winchester was broken. Utterly and completely.

Finally, his emotions became a weight too heavy to hold and he fell, collapsed in a heap on the hard wood floor.

Sobbing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was falling, lower and lower until finally it disappeared behind a line of trees in the distance. Still, the heat was an overbearing force.

Dean Winchester pulled his beloved black Impala into a cracked asphalt parking lot. He crudely pulled into a parking spot (or 2) and twisted the key, killing the engine. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, emotions and paranoia. Stress and worry. He needed something, anything to kill his pain.

Pushing the door open slowly, he stepped into blooming darkness. He pushed the door closed behind him and stood in the failing light, taking in his surroundings. He had seen the bar from the road. Flashing neon signs with a pack of girls talking out front. Exactly what he needed right now.

Shoving his car keys into his pocket he made his way slowly towards the sound of music and promise of forgetting all of his pain.

Walking through the door the sights and smells bombarded him. In his current state, his heart hurting and his head swimming, he felt vulnerable. Head down he forced his way through the crowd to the bar.

He practically threw himself down onto a bar stool as he signaled the bartender.

Slowly, he raised his eyes, and when the bartender got to him he felt as if a block of ice had dropped into his stomach.

She was tall, her red hair hanging in tight curls , framing her heart shaped face. Leaning on the smooth, polished wood of the bar, she bent forward, her blue eyes caught Deans gaze and he smiled. The black winged eyeliner framing her eyes matched perfectly with the black rimmed glasses she hid behind.

Despite his pain, his regret, his fear of the unknown, in that moment he couldn't help but grin. Suddenly, in that moment every 'bad teacher' fantasy he had ever had came to life came roaring to life in his groin. Her voice pulled him back to reality.

"What can I get you sweetie?"

His grin widened, " 3 shots of whiskey"

She looked surprised, "Wow. You start hard don't ya?"

His grin faltered and fell, remembering Sam, "Yea...I kinda-" he stammered "got something on my mind"

She looked sad as she reached below the bar, grabbing a bottle. With lithe, nimble fingers she grabbed three shot glasses and slammed them to the bar. "I'm sorry, handsome. A girl?"

He huffed a laugh, "Nope. Not this time."  
Looking around, she dropped the bottle to the bar in front of him and leaned towards him again. Her eyes transformed from happy to a look of deep concern, "You okay?"  
Dean nodded, though ever fiber of him screamed otherwise "Yeah. I just need to forget...something"

A sympathetic smile, and she extended a hand, "I'm Monica, by the way."

He reached forward, their hands clasped , "Dean."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun had fallen, darkness reaching into every corner of the room, and grasping at Sam's soul like Lucifer himself.

Drawing a deep breath, he pushed himself up until he was on his knees, looking around the room.

As he placed his hands on the floor, pushing forward in an effort to stand, a sharp pain flashed just behind his eyes.

A flash: blue eyes and thick black lashes. Bold, red lipstick. Dean, pushing forward to touch the lips with his own.

He shook his head, hard. The pain slowly subsided, and his vision returned to reality.

"No...not now..." He whispered to himself.

On shaking legs he stood in the darkness, looking around wildly. Right now could possibly be the worst possible time for this. For his brain to play cruel games with his heart.

He didn't need this...not now...

Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he fought to blink them away.

He felt it coming on before it happened, deep within the confines of his mind, a spike being driven into his consciousness.

"No...I don't-"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Before she knew what was happening, he was on her. Pushing her, driving her, his mouth owning her lips and his hands tugging at her belt.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down, into her and allover her.

Between rushed, feverish kisses they panted, like dogs in heat. Biting and pulling at each other in the night.

He pushed her back then, driving her down against the inky black hood of the impala, her fiery hair standing out against the darkness. Even parted, he could still taste her, the salty taste on his lips.

Without a single spoken word between them, he tore open the button of her blue jeans and slipped them down to her ankles.

"Dean...I don't know if-"

She stopped mid sentence when he looked up at her, emerald pools veiled by a forest of thick lashes. The intensity of his gaze burned the thought straight from her brain.

Though his lust was a heat that was making his shake and sweat drip from his skin, Dean stopped then, looking down at her.

"Whats wrong?"

She bit her lip and glanced away, looking around. When she returned her eyes to him, he knew before she even spoke what was on her mind.

He grinned, "you're afraid someone will see us?"

A nod, and a playful smile danced across her lips.

He nodded, but his smile turned manic, "Good. I want everyone to see."

He pushed forward, pressing his thighs against her calves as he yanked at his belt buckle.

Though she didn't stop him, Monica placed a hand on his wrist, "Wait, Dean...You got something to prove?"

He gulped thickly, his eyes flicking away to the darkness. His hands faltered, but didn't stop their task. Soon his belt was off and dropped to the ground beside them.

"I've got everything to prove..."  
His lips returned to hers, and he towered over her. Before she knew what was happening, he had owned her. Fully and completely, in that moment she belonged to him.

He thrust just once, cautiously at first, then faster, his mind working in rapid circles and he drowned his thoughts in the wetness between her quivering thighs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A flash of white and a jab of searing, white-hot pain brought Sam back to reality. He lay crumpled on the dirty hard wood floor, clutching his head and clenching his teeth.

He released his breath in a whoosh of air, and with it he released a sobbing moan.

"Oh god...Dean-"

His words caught in his throat, threatening to break his mind and tear out his heart.

He brought his shaking hands down to the pockets of his jeans and searched, his hands jittering across the fabric.

He found was he was looking for and yanked it out and turned it over in his hands. His phone.

With the click of a single button, it lit up in his hands, and he squinted as he attempted to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Trying as hard as he possibly could to just hold on to the phone despite his shivering hands, he pulled up his contact list and scrolled through until he found the name he had been searching for.

As the phone began to ring, Sam pressed the speaker button, not trusting his shaking body to keep a grip if he had attempted to hold the device to his ear.

The ringing was loud and he jumped when it echoed through the room, bouncing off the empty walls.

The rings stretched on, almost endless, and then cut to Dean's voice, high and muffled within the phone. Blinking back tears, Sam listened with a hammering heart as Dean's voicemail message played. Finally, a beep to signify his chance to speak.

"Dean. Don't do this to me" He choked back the burning ball of tears in his throat, his eyes screwed tightly shut. "Dean, I know what you're doing. I-I...can see it. I see her. Dean..." He choked, his breath hitching in his throat. "You can lie to me but you cant lie to yourself. Doing that with some girl wont change a damn thing..."

Another beep, and his chance to speak his mind had ended. Dropping the phone with a clatter to the flood, he collapsed in a heap of tears and pain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Looking out at a star filled night sky, Bobby Singer stood at the window, a tumbler of bourbon clutched in a calloused hand. His battered blue baseball cap long forgotten, tossed carelessly on his desk as he unwound at the end of a long, stressful day.

His jumbled mind was finally resting, but one thing always worried him.

His boys.

Well...not his boys. John's boys...but to Bobby, he loved them like the sons he would never have. The boy's that were easily his reason for living as long as he had.

He took a sip from his glass, his eyes watching over the junk yard. His chamber of secrets, so to speak. It held many stories, all of them a chapter of his life.

Turning from the window he glanced towards the kitchen, dark and cast in shadows.

He missed her at that moment. Karen.

He missed her light, her warmth...and most of all, especially at that moment...he missed her companionship.

A shrill screech pierced his consciousness, pulling him out of his memories. He jumped and turned on his heel, his heart racing.

The phone. Just the phone ringing.

With a sigh of relief paired with frustration (mostly at himself for being caught off guard) he crossed the room in a few steps and snatched the phone off the table.

"Yeah?"

He was greeted with silence, a sniffle, and finally "...Bobby?"

Bobby flung himself down into his chair. "Who is this?"

His question was ignored, "Bobby...I need help..."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" The voice on the phone cracked, broken with sobs.

"Whats the matter, boy?" He sat forward, eyeing his car keys. Though he was tired, ready to relax and the end of a long day he knew...if his boy's needed him, he would be on the road in a split second.

"I messed up really bad, Bobby..."

"Are you okay? Where's Dean?"

"Dean is gone..."

Switching the phone to his opposite hand, Bobby yanked open a drawer on his desk, shifting through papers until he found a phone hidden among the rubble. He flipped it open and it lit up in his hand.

"What do you mean Dean is gone?"

A sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and Bobby realized that Sam had been crying, "We did something really bad, Bobby. Really bad..."

"Where is Dean, boy?!"

Bobby could feel his blood pressure rising. He knew he was raising his voice, but it couldn't be helped. Pushing button's as fast as his fingers would move, he opened his contacts and scrolled through them until he found what he was looking for. He found Dean's number and pressed send, hitting a button to put the phone on speaker.

"He left...Bobby, he got so mad...and he-" Sam stopped, his voice tapering off. Through the phone, Bobby could hear a faint pounding. "Wait, Bobby...Someone is at the door."

"Sam?"

"Hello?" This voice sounded closer, and Bobby glanced at the phone in his other hand. Quickly taking it off speaker, he pressed it to his other ear.

"Dean?"

"yea?"

"What's going on?"

Before he could answer, Sam was back on the line.

"Bobby, Dean is back...I'm gonna go."

"Wait a second." Bobby switched back to the phone in his other hand, his brow furrowed. "Dean, whats going on?"

"I'm driving. Sam and I got into-"

Before he could hear another word, Bobby slammed the phone shut and leap to his feet. "SAM!" He screamed into the phone, snatching his car keys and shoving them into the pocket of his battered old jeans.

"Bobby, Dean is back-"

"SAM! That isn't Dean!"

A pause, and then: "Wait...how do you..."

"I'M TALKING TO DEAN!"

A click, and the line was dead.


	5. Discovery

Bobby found panic gripping him, grabbing his heart in a sickening strangle hold. He turned into the dirt parking lot way too fast, the tires of his old truck tossing up clots of dirt into the darkened night sky.

His eyes took in the sight before him as his heart hammered against his rib cage. The impala parked haphazardly close to the building, one tire hugging the sidewalk, the drivers side door open, interior lights on.

The door to one of the rooms was thrown open, revealing the lights on inside.

Bobby kicked the door open, and was running towards the hotel room before the truck even skidded to a full stop.

"Dean?!"

The words that tore from his throat echoed painfully in the empty room. He looked around, panicked. The room was a mess. A hole in the wall to his left, a shattered vase crunched beneath his worn boots as he entered the room.

"Dean?" He called again, desperate now.

"Yea?" The reply came from across the room, the bathroom.

Bobby stepped forward, peering around the corner. Dean sat slumped against the far bathroom wall, his legs folded beneath him. His shaking hands draped across his knees. Blood dripped steadily from the knuckles of his right hand, forming a small puddle on the wooden floor beneath. Above his head, a hole in the plaster, dust falling from within it.

"Find anything?" Bobby asked, but the look on Deans face told him everything he needed to know.

Averting his gaze, Dean lifted his bleeding hand, pointing behind Bobby, into a far corner.

Bobby turned, his eyes searching. A pile of forgotten clothes lay on the floor, a wet circle around them. Leading away from the pile, a trail of blood and mucus.

Bobby exhaled in a grunt, "shapeshifter?"

Turning back towards Dean, his brow knitted in confusion.

"Weren't you boys hunting a shifter?"

Dean nodded, his eyes sliding closed as if pained.

"Well what happened, boy?"

Dean inhaled with a hiss, his head falling back, onto the wall behind him. "We killed it..." A shrug, and his eyes fell closed, defeated. "I thought we killed it"

"Well why are you sittin' around sulking for?!" Bobby spat the words like venom, his fists clenched. "We've gotta find Sam!"

From his place on the floor, Dean looked up at his old friend. The man that he had known for as long as he could remember. The man who had become more of a father than his own father was. Since his fathers death Bobby had been there. He had always been there for him...and for Sam...but lately it had just been more than he ever could have imagined. Forcing his eyes away, Dean sighed, fighting back emotions.

"I don't know how..." Dean said, his voice cracking from the lump of tears in his throat.

"Listen to me, boy!" Bobby pushed, his voice loud in the small bathroom. "He is your brother. He needs help. Why are you giving up?!"

"I'm not! I just-"

"Dean, what happened?"

Dean stopped then, his mind halting suddenly as if hitting a brick wall. "Huh?"

"Sam called me, like i told ya. Cryin' and stuff. I know he's an emotional guy and all...but...He was real upset. "

Dean pushed himself up, forcing himself to stand. His legs shook, threatening to give out, and slam him right back down on his ass. He shook his head as he pushed past Bobby and into the hotel room.

Turning away, he looked across the broken hotel room, among the rubble and debris, the light caught on an object near the corner. Moving towards it, Dean felt his heart sink into his stomach when he realized what it was. A shining plastic bottle lay smashed against the wall, its slippery contents spilled out onto the ground around it. A shiver raced up his spine.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice was low, concerned.

"Yeah?" He turned towards his old friend, fighting to yank a look of concern onto his face.

"What happened?"

"Bobby...I..."

The old hunter came forward, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Look, whatever was said...whatever happened. I'm sure he will forgive you. Brothers fight. You always have."

Dean released a bark of laughter despite his determination to stay statuesque. "No, Bobby...it wasn't-"

The shrill ring of his cell phone from outside of the opened hotel room door stopped him dead in his tracks. His heart leapt from its place in his stomach, and had suddenly taken up residence in his throat.

He moved towards the door, and then into the darkness, Bobby following him. He followed the ringing of the phone to the impala's glove box. He threw himself into the drivers seat, yanking open the compartment and snatching his phone in one quick movement.

The name on the caller ID nearly made him gasp. He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

"Sam?!"

The voice on the other line was gravely and choked, and sounded very VERY far away, but definitely his brother. "Dean?"

"Sam, where are you? I'm gonna come get you. Was it the-"

"You're gullible..." The voice had shifted, lowering and taking on a sinister note. Someone else.

Dean could feel himself begin to shake, his blood pressure rising, "Listen to me you son of a bitch."

"oh, slow down there, hot shot! What a mouth you've got on you! But nothing like the mouth your brother has, right? Boy, I knew you guys were close, but this really takes the cake!"

"You shut your mouth, you hear me? I'm gonna come for you, and when I find you-"

"Human's really are disgusting! That's sick! I mean...I was close to my brother too...you know, the one you KILLED..."

"-im going to rip your fucking head off your shoulders-"

The voice giggled before continuing, "But I've gotta hand it to you...Ive never seen siblings as close as the two of you! Tell me...how did it feel? Fucking your brother?"

Dean was quiet, his anger bubbling like bile in his throat.

"So i guess i picked a better target than I thought. Its really gonna hurt you when i rip his heart of of his chest, isn't it?"

"If you touch my brother..."

Another laugh, this one louder and holding a note of madness behind it. "Too late!"

Slowly, in the background, Dean heard the clank of metal, and then...screaming. Distant and far away, the sound of Sam, the real Sam, in terrible, gut-wrenching pain.

And then a click as the light went dead.

Dean dropped the phone into his lap, his heart pounding against his rib cage. Bobby stood beside him, quiet and unmoving.

"Dean? That was the shifter, wasn't it?"

The eldest Winchester nodded, his jaw clenching. He turned his head slowly, his emerald eyes roving dark patterns over Bobby Singers pale face.

"Dean...ya okay?"

Dean shook his head, and brought his shaking hands to the steering wheel, "Get in. We're going to get my brother."

Dean pulled the door shut, closing it with a slam. Hurriedly, Bobby made his way to the passenger side, yanking the door open and throwing himself into the seat.

"You know where he is?"

"Nope...but I'll burn down every building in this city until I find out..."


End file.
